


My Little Sleipnir

by OtterlyDeerlightful



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: I don't know what Loki I'm writing for, Loki Pilgrim vs. the Realms, Oki Doki Loki, Why Pinkie Pie is the way she is, mixing canons, obvious non-con at Sleipnir's conception, this thing takes itself way too seriously, what is my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterlyDeerlightful/pseuds/OtterlyDeerlightful
Summary: Pinkie Pie is certainly one of the more unique residents of Equestria, but those around her don't know the half of it. Only one individual in all the universe knows the truth of the gregarious pony's origins, and his name is Loki.





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I like this?
> 
> I'm *still* not sure which Loki (lore or Marvel) I'm writing with this dang thing, so I linked the fic under both headings should parties from either be interested in reading. 
> 
> Hopefully this won't give anyone brain rot.

It was no longer safe here. Though, if Loki were being honest with himself, it was never really safe to begin with. The circumstances of her birth had been terrible, an unintended consequence of a plan that had gone horribly awry. On the whole, Loki tried not to think of his _experiences_ with Svaðilfari. It was not a time in his life he wished to revisit. By all accounts, the _reminder_ he had been given of that horrible day should have been the target of his disdain, a disgusting and painful memento to be discarded by the wayside. And yet, he found that he cared for it. For her.

Odin had seemed disturbingly unbothered by Loki’s condition after the events of the accursed wall, though upon the arrival of Loki’s _legacy_ , he suddenly seemed pleased with the outcome. His father had declared that, once mature, the foal would become his personal steed, and congratulated Loki on his contribution to Asgard’s grandeur. The king’s words had left the Silver Tongue uncharacteristically speechless and the decision of the newborn’s fate was thus made.

At first, Loki had simply wanted to kill it, the writhing grey thing tangled in its own overabundance of limbs. Like any other of its kind—or, its close approximation, given the creature’s unique qualities—the foal learned to stand rather quickly. Walking, though, seemed to take more time. All newborn horses took some time to get acquainted with their new limbs, and with twice as many legs to maneuver, it also took the little body twice as long to adapt to them. Loki, exhausted, nauseated, and still in pain from the whole ordeal, had watched the mutant creature try to navigate its way through its new world for some time before the poor thing began to nudge him for some form of nourishment and attention. It was weak, helpless, and entirely dependent upon him. Without Loki, it would undoubtedly die. And that acknowledgement left the trickster god troubled.

The foal, however unnatural, needed him. It never asked to exist, to be. Yet here it was, and it was unable to live without help from another. The thing hadn’t had a choice in its reliance upon Loki, just as Loki hadn’t had a choice in the creature’s creation. In that sense, they were alike. Both victims of a plan gone wrong, both alone in its wake. With a sigh, in the privacy of his room after the dismissal of the event’s onlookers, Loki relented and cared for the foal.

~*~*~

In the presence of others, Loki appeared to have no attachment to his _child_. He kept primarily to his quarters, often locking his doors and refusing visitors, only occasionally stepping outside and, even then, often only traveling between the stables and great hall during meals. Rumors abounded throughout the courts. Some said that Loki must still be recovering from his ordeal, deserved or not. Others insisted that he was occupied with his own redemption by caring for Odin’s newest mount, ensuring that it would grow into a mighty stallion deserving of the Allfather and a force to be reckoned with in battle. In reality, Loki simply spent quiet time tending to his offspring while contemplating their unusual predicament.

It was after one evening of watching the foal take a special interest in his silken slippers that he realized that yes, he did care for the innocent thing. Loki watched as his offspring tossed his items in the air, creating a simple game to entertain itself for the night. It looked at him now and again, as if asking if their mother wished to join them. Loki did not, but he did make a decision that night. He named the animal Sleipnir.

As the foal grew, the legacy of its parentage began to present itself. Loki had originally, and rightly, assumed that the animal’s strange appearance had been the result of a parent who was accustomed to taking alternate forms. He had not, however, realized how far his influence over the creature’s nature had reached.

“By the Norns,” Loki has breathed quietly to himself one evening, looking upon the foal as it amused itself by rolling about and happily chasing a ball that Loki had fetched from the training grounds earlier that day. “You can change.”

He realized that the little creature, which he had assumed to be male since its birth, suddenly was not. The little thing had tumbled over the ball, rolling over and shaking its head in confusion, and there was no doubt in Loki’s mind that the foal he had birthed was different. Changed.

Less than a week later, Loki returned from the dining hall to find the foal asleep in his bed. He paused at the sight of it, unable to understand what his eyes insisted to be true; the foal had only four legs. The god had immediately raced to the library and only returned to his chambers once he had gathered as many tomes as he could grasp about the nature, legacies, and theories of other shapeshifters and the abilities of their ilk. By the time he had returned, Sleipnir had eight legs once again.

The next month, The little foal’s eyes changed. Gold, purple, orange, and, finally, blue. Shortly after, Sleipnir’s tangled mane began to change color as well, turning from a dark grey to a deep maroon before his eyes. Loki doubled his efforts in keeping the filly—for that was as she had remained since her initial transformation—hidden from prying eyes. He insisted that he alone needed to groom and train the young horse, nurture it with his seiðr to ensure its loyalty to and worthiness of Odin. He failed to mention that the aura of vibrant energy emanating from the animal was completely generated by Sleipnir herself. His offspring, though far from being Æsir, held her own magic, and there was no doubt in Loki’s mind that she was a sentient creature capable of so much more than being an enslaved steed to a pompous king.

After an extensive and fruitless search for any answers as to the extent of Sleipnir’s potential as a shapeshifter, the influence of her seiðr, or other yet hidden abilities, Loki turned his efforts elsewhere: hiding his child from his father. Odin expected a brainless beast, and Loki could not bring himself to doom Sleipnir to such a fate. The foal had too much potential, too much intelligence for that. He had suffered for his plan and the disastrous results of the wall, and he would undoubtedly suffer for the _loss_ of the greatest steed of Asgard, but any punishment the others would bestow upon him would be worth the pain so long as Sleipnir was safe. Instead of magic and ancestry, he instead turned his research to investigating the other realms of the universe and all known worlds within them.

Despite her young age, the foal clearly possessed at least some control over her abilities, subtle as they may be, and Loki suspected that further talents would begin to show in the future. Odin could not know about them. No one could. The moment that Sleipnir’s magic was known beyond his chamber walls, Loki knew that there would be no escaping the poor filly’s fate. Odin would demand his steed play a larger strategic role in his battles, find a way to harness and manipulate her skills, seiðr, and what appeared to be mild precognition. No. Loki would search the realms for somewhere to hide her, somewhere no one could use her or her abilities against her will. He only hoped such a place existed.

He looked up from his reading when the young horse nudged his arm with its snout. Loki looked up to find Sleipnir, her short, fluffy brush of a tail waggling behind her as she looked up at him with large, expectant blue eyes. He reached out to brush his fingers through her mane, the hair growing in even curlier now that she was a bit older. The dark maroon had begun to change again, this time slowly gaining more radiance to the point of comparability to a pastel red. Her coat, likewise, had begun to change that very day for the first time, though the difference was subtle. Loki still could not entirely tell if the change in hue was true, or if his eyes were playing tricks of their own and merely reflecting the new colors of her mane upon the rest of her body. Only time would tell.

“Yes, little one?” he asked quietly.

The foal whinnied. She kicked her many back legs and shook her head playfully, knocking Loki’s hand from her neck. Kicking again, she raced to the opposite side of the room, her small hoofbeats echoing off the chamber walls as she went. The foal picked up a book laid out on his lounge with her teeth and came prancing back to her mother with its pages flapping in the air beneath her chin. She nudged his arm again with the book, her intelligent eyes hopeful.

The god chuckled lightly to himself. He turned to fully face the little horse and gently freed the book from her grasp. It was one of the few volumes he had found in the library filled with simpler stories, candy for the mind, really, but candy that proved rather entertaining for children. At the time he had wondered if Sleipnir held the intelligence to understand language at all, much less the art of storytelling. Now he knew it with a certainty.

“Would you rather I read to _you_ instead of just to myself?” he asked.

The filly vigorously nodded her head, mane bouncing up and down as she all but danced where she stood, the anticipation overtaking her.

“Very well, then,” Loki relented, getting up from his chair.

Sleipnir whinnied excitedly and ran toward the balcony, practically collapsing on the large nest of pillows and blankets she and Loki had accumulated there. She pulled her many legs under and around herself as she waited for her mother to catch up. Her tail continued to wiggle behind her.

“What shall we read today, my little Sleipnir?” he asked with a fond smile. “The Elf Maiden? What about Kisa the Cat?” He chuckled as the little horse threw her head back and neighed. “Kisa the Cat it is, then.”

Loki settled into the warmth of the soft pillows and luxurious blankets beside his child. Sleipnir rested her head in his lap and sighed contently, eyes drawn upward to watch as the god opened the book to the proper story and began to read it aloud. He leaned back against the wall of softness and, balancing the book in one hand, stroked Sleipnir’s coat gently with the other. The pair stayed there until dinner, content in one another’s loving company.


	2. Chapter II

Weeks passed. Loki’s antisocial behavior began attracting unwanted attention, despite his attempts to spend more time away from Sleipnir to give the guise of normality. He deflected questions as to his activities, as well as inquiries to see the now-famous future steed of the Allfather. It was only a matter of time until Odin himself cornered Loki, demanding he bring Sleipnir before him for inspection. And, at that point, his hands would be tied. Far worse, the foal’s—his _daughter’s_ fate would be decided. Loki knew he was running out of time to get the innocent filly to safety.

“Sleipnir, please stop,” Loki scolded lightly when she nudged his elbow with her nose. A few moments of silence followed before she nudged him again, more insistently this time, and Loki uttered another firmer-voiced “ _Sleipnir_!”

The little filly shied back, looking up at her parent with large, sad eyes as she pawed guiltily at the floor with one of her hooves. Loki sighed and turned enough to stroke her deep pink mane. She leaned into the touch, nuzzling as much of his arm as she could reach.

“I am sorry, little one,” the trickster sighed. “I need to work. We are close, Sleipnir. You are nearly free. Yggdrasil hides much in her roots, realms that may not yet be known even to the likes of Heimdallr. I have the path nearly mapped. We will travel soon enough.”

She snuffled against his side before resting her head in his lap. Over the past few days her coat color had begun to shift again. Loki suspected that Sleipnir enjoyed the hue of her mane and tail to such an extent that she was altering the rest of her shape to mirror it. Her light grey fur now looked mildly pink, though still mottled along her rump and across her muzzle. It rather reminded him of freckles.

His daughter sighed, nuzzled his stomach, and turned away after a minute to sniff out the hoard of snacks that Loki now kept in his chambers at all times. The store was originally created for the days during which Loki could scarcely see his bestial child, to make sure that she was well fed in his absence. Sleipnir seemed to be under the impression that it was her private buffet for all hours of the day. She particularly liked the desserts that Loki had inadvertently introduced to her one day after leaving his own food unattended for a few scarce seconds. There had been no adverse effects other than the mild uptick in energy that would have beset any Æsir child. And so, Loki had since made sure to include a few indulgences for her whenever he could swipe them from the kitchens unnoticed. 

“Don’t eat too much,” he warned before turning back to his work, pouring over the book before him and channeling his seiðr into the pathways slowly being solidified in his mind.

He closed his eyes, traveling along the networks of unknown worlds, touching upon the auras generated by each in order to further assess their potential. Loki worked for some time, nearly draining himself in his efforts. He began to pull away from his work, releasing Yggdrasil’s roots to better return to his own self and Asgard around him. A nervous whinny snapped his consciousness back to his surroundings all the faster.

“Sleipnir?” Loki asked weakly while his eyes refocused. He blinked rapidly, looking for the young horse.

The filly was shivering, shaking her head from where she sat, a position seemingly impossible for one of her species. Her ears flopped about and she turned to look at her mother with wide, worried eyes. She wrinkled her nose repeatedly, lifting a hoof to it as if to scratch something unseen. Loki could not help but notice in that Sleipnir’s additional limbs had mysteriously disappeared again during his time mentally traveling the life tree.

“Sleipnir, my little one, what’s wrong?” Loki asked with more urgency, rising from his seat as the foal continued to wrinkle her nose and tremble from ear to tail.

All at once, the young creature stopped. She sat completely still, all muscles locked and her eyes focused only on her mother. Loki paused mid-step and watched, concerned, wary of what might be wrong with the little horse he had come to love. Sleipnir whined softly, her nose wrinkling again. One of her ears flopped wildly for the briefest of moments. One of her eyelids noticeably fluttered. One of her back legs twitched, her knee jerking as though tapped unexpectedly. All at once, her head turned sharply toward Loki’s chamber doors.

_Bam_

_Bam_

_Bam_

Loki felt his spine go rigid as the powerful knocks at his door echoed off of his walls. Sleipnir’s ears instantly pinned themselves to her skull in response to the loud noise.

“Loki?”

“Oh no,” the trickster whispered to himself. “Thor.”

“Loki, open this door. Enough of your games.”

The god locked eyes with his offspring, each of them staring at the other in fear. The look lasted merely a second, but was still more than enough time for Thor to grow impatient. With a final loud crash that sent the little filly to the floor in fear and had Loki’s hands fly up to protect his ears, the pair of doors flew open and nearly off their very hinges.

In the splintered doorway stood a massive figure. Thor, his golden hair falling about his broad shoulders, his beloved Mjölnir hanging from his belt, stepped over the threshold and into what had formerly been Sleipnir’s only sanctuary. The thunder god locked eyes with his nervous-looking brother.

“I don’t know what you are playing at, Loki, but it stops now.”

Loki held Thor’s gaze, not daring to move in any capacity, lest he somehow bring the giant man’s attention to the foal cowering just feet away from the two of them.

“I’m afraid I have no idea to what you are referring,” the smaller of the pair said, his voice smoothed of any nervousness.

Thor groaned in exasperation. “This,” he said, gesturing to the whole of his brother’s chambers. “Sequestering yourself from the world, hoarding father’s horse like your personal pet—”

Thor’s speech halted as the brute reminded himself of the creature’s existence. His eyes swiftly drifted across the room, stopping upon the small, frightened horse cowering near the foot of Loki’s bed. Loki stopped breathing.

“What is this?”

Loki barely had the chance to turn his head toward his daughter before Thor was speaking again.

“There is a pink _pony_ in your room, Lo—” He could almost see the gears turning in Thor’s head. “—Where is Sleipnir?”

Those gears had turned and shifted, yes, but it seemed that the energy behind them was not enough to complete the rotation. Loki latched onto the only opening he had, praying that it would be enough to gain enough of a foothold.

“Thor, you musn’t breathe a word,” Loki said quickly, closing the distance to his brother and conveniently placing himself between the muscle-bound blond and the helpless foal beyond. “I need your help.”

Thor scowled in confusion. “Help? Loki, what have you done now?”

“Nothing!” he all but cried. “That is precisely the problem.” He took in a deep, ragged breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “That is _precisely_ the problem, because everyone will believe that I _have_ done something!”

“I do not understand.”

Of course he didn’t. What would Odin’s golden child know of true punishment, pain, and loss? Thor had not come to see him after the events of the wall and Svaðilfari, had extended no sentiment of support, nor even pity. His brother had not so much as come to _see_ him after the hell Loki had gone through. No, Thor didn’t understand a damn thing.

“I don’t know what happened,” Loki said, looking pained as he gave his daughter a backwards glance for just a moment, giving her a quick wink of reassurance before turning back to his brother with a look of sheer desperation. “Someone has taken Sleipnir, though I know not whom. I have been working tirelessly to find them, and I believe I am closing in on their location. They stole the Allfather’s steed, I presume, out of jealousy. Or, revenge. They _knew_ I was to be the one to watch over the horse, and if anything were to happen to it, _I_ would be to blame! They replaced Odin’s horse with this thing to _mock_ me. I _refuse_ to stand for such vile treatment of myself, much less of Asgard, b-but I’m afraid I am in need of help.”

Thor quietly took in his brother’s words, turning them over in his mind as Loki gently squeezed his arm.

“ _Please_ , Thor. I may be a trickster, but this is beyond even me. Odin will be _furious_ if he discovers Sleipnir was taken from under my own nose. I must get him back without the realm knowing what has happened.”

Behind him, Loki could hear the little filly shifting about, and the shuffle of blankets as she undoubtedly tried to hide herself away. He could see Thor’s eyes following her movement and his stomach twisted as he waited for his brother’s response.

“Thor, I—”

“What of Heimdallr?” the god of thunder questioned. “Have you yet spoken with him on this matter?”

Thank the Norns. He was buying it.

“I dare not speak to the sentry. You know he holds no love for me. If anything, he would see my predicament as glad news. I need someone I can _trust_ , brother. Will you help me?”

The pair stared at each other for a few pregnant minutes. Loki still held the warrior’s arm in a desperate hold, one hand gripping Thor’s bracer as though his life depended upon it. In a way, he realized, it did. Thor watched his sibling with a troubled brow, clearly thinking over the situation as thoroughly as possible. At long last, he cleared his throat.

“What do you need of me?”

Loki breathed a genuine sigh of relief.

“I need you to find a stone for me.”

The golden-haired prince frowned deeply.

“A stone? Loki, what are—”

“Yes, a stone.”

Loki hurried to his desk, stealing a quick glance at the open page of notes before abandoning it entirely and flipping through the tome in search of a particular entry. He prattled on as he did so, speaking a mile a minute about a tracing stone, the last thing he needed in order to pinpoint the dastardly thief that dared mock the throne of Asgard. He went into the properties of the item, its energies, adding as much detail as possible to distract and confuse the thunder god while making it appear that Loki was simply panicking over the well-studied item in question.

“It should be somewhere here,” he said, jabbing a finger on the map sprawled across the pages before him. “I cannot go myself. It is impossible to balance the spells I need to join with the stone here while also guarding the…” He glanced over his shoulder at Sleipnir, who was now thoroughly hiding under the blankets pulled from his bed, only her muzzle and one foreleg visible. “…substitute. I cannot let anyone see it.”

Thor nodded along with his brother’s words, looking troubled as he so very clearly tried to hide the amount of confusion pressing against his skull from within.

“I need you to go there in my place, Thor. You should be able find it easily. If you find it and bring it back here to me, we will be able to retrieve the horse and father will be none the wiser. But you must hurry.”

The thunder god nodded, reaching for Mjölnir at his side. He grasped the hammer firmly in his fist. With his other hand he roughly clasped Loki’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze that made the trickster nearly wince.

“Fear not, Loki. I will lend you my aid. That stone will be in your possession by sundown, mark my words.”

“Thank you,” Loki breathed. “Thank you, Thor. Now, please, go. Before Odin hears any more whispers on the matter.”

Thor nodded and strode back toward the still slightly ajar chamber doors. He gave Loki one last look over his shoulder and smiled. “Worry not, brother.”

Loki nodded in return. “I am in your debt.”

And, with that, Thor was mercifully gone. Loki rushed the doors, closing them and immediately dragging his lounge across the floor to create a makeshift barricade across the entrance. It was not much and, if challenged, would crumble immediately, but it would be enough to keep any passing eyes from what he was about to do.

“Sleipnir,” he hissed, conjuring up a bag from nothing. “Come, child, we have to go.”

The small animal cautiously peeked out from under her blanket. She watched in silence as her mother dashed about the room, snatching up various books, knives, and other trinkets that may be useful where they were going. Where it was that they were going.

“Sleipnir,” Loki said again, turning to look at the cowering filly. “Come. Quickly!”

The young foal stood, shaking off much of the blanket and allowing the rest to slide off of her back like water from a leaf. Still displaying only four of her eight legs, she padded slowly over to her parent with her head lowered with worry. The god sighed, kneeling before her and setting his bag down at his side. Loki reached out with both hands, stroking his daughter’s cheeks, scratching her pale pink coat to bring the dear some semblance of comfort.

“I am sorry, little one,” he said softly, letting the foal lean into his touch with a sigh. “I know you are frightened. You have every right to be so, but you must also be brave now. Thor knows of your existence and he will be back soon. If he or anyone finds out that you are truly mine, they will take you away.” He stopped for a moment, needing to swallow his emotions and think clearly. For both their sakes. “We need to leave, and I need you to stay close to me as we do. Do you understand?”

Sleipnir slowly nodded, her sparkling blue eyes will wide with worry.

“That’s my good girl,” he said with a sad smile as he ran his fingers through her mane. “Hold close.”

Loki slung his bag over his shoulder. Sleipnir squeezed in close against him, face upturned to keep her eyes on his. She shivered nervously, pulling up one of her knees, whining softly, as though it might be bothering her. Loki wrapped his arms securely around the little horse, already whispering a spell.

“Close your eyes,” he told her as he did the same.

Then they vanished.


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sucker is short, but I didn't know where else to stick it pacing-wise.

The first thing of which Loki became aware was the gentle breeze against his cheek and the faraway song of a bird. He was not familiar with the species. He had needed to travel in haste, fearful of his brother’s return and, with it, Odin’s anger. He had not had the time necessary to fully solidify and understand the pathways through Yggdrasil’s roots. Though he understood their most rudimentary network, he had all but teleported them blindly through the life’s tree. It had been a dangerous decision, to be sure, an unfortunately necessary one. Even so, they had made it. Just where _to_ , however, remained to be seen. At least the world was hospitable. Below him, Loki felt the shifting of a small body and the sound of a familiar whine. He smiled and finally opened his eyes.

They were in a meadow, the sun barely hiding behind a cloud that floated carelessly through the sky above. The trees nearby rustled their leaves at the wind and the furred creatures in their branches paid their otherworldly visitors no mind as they went about their day. After their shared moment of urgent panic, the idyllic, almost sleepy scenery was a stark change.

“My little Sleipnir, are you alright?”

Loki looked down. Instead of his daughter, the god caught sight of himself…and he felt his world collapsed around him.

Hooves. Hooves and fur and—Loki let out a shrieking neigh of fear. The sound of his own voice only lead him into further hysterics. His chest felt tight, his lungs constricting as if to reject any further intake of air despite their mighty need for more. He stumbled backward, falling once, then twice, as his limbs responded not like those of a crouched biped, but a terrified ungulate. A horse. He was a horse. He was a horse again. He had to change back—he had to escape! Instinctively, the god’s eyes scanned his surroundings for Svaðilfari. The beast could be lurking anywhere, ready to leap out at a moment’s notice. Attack him, mount him. Again and again and again until—

A soft cry drew his attention immediately. Loki’s ears perked forward instinctively, eyes wide with alarm as he continued to gasp for a breath that refused to fill his need. A small, pink bundle sat on the ground and stared up at him with worry.

“Sl-Sleipnir,” he breathed.

He reached out a foreleg, trying to wrap it around the filly, protect her from…something. She looked so much smaller than he had grown used to, somehow different. He pressed his face against hers and the young thing squealed happily for her mother to be so close.

“My little one, oh, my little…” Loki’s voice trailed off and he reopened the eyes he hadn’t remembered closing. Unsure if it had been his imagination, he tried again. “Sleipnir?” The filly whinnied again in reply, and Loki lifted his head in awe. “I can still speak,” he realized aloud.

He still possessed his voice. He could speak as a horse. The trickster looked about again, calmer this time. No Svaðilfari, no Odin, no Thor. No danger to speak of, simply an open field in the countryside. And he could speak. He had been unable to do so before, unable to convey his trauma while he yet carried Sleipnir within him. This was different.

Carefully, Loki stood. He craned his head to look back at himself anew. A pale silver coat with a tail of black, green, and thin strands of gold greeted him. The coloring was strange enough, to be certain, but the unorthodox marking on his flank caught his full attention. Upon his coat, seemingly a part of it rather than painted over, was the image of a tree. A very familiar tree he had traveled for much of his life. Around it spiraled wisps of pale green, traveling up to the tree’s crown, whereupon sat a shining star. The equinized god turned his attention back to the small filly now standing before him, noting the lack of any distinctive mark on the young one.

“What matter of world is this?” he asked no one in particular.

“ _Mmmaah_.”

Loki’s head snapped back to look down at his child, eyes wide in wonder.

“Sleipnir?” he asked.

The little pink filly wagged her soft tail and _smiled_. A lump caught in her mother’s throat at the sight of it. His child was now able to smile.

“ _Mmmaah!_ ” Sleipnir cried again.

Loki locked his knees to keep himself from collapsing on the spot. “By the Norns…you can speak as well.” He lowered his head, meeting Sleipnir’s nose with his own. “I…I knew that you…”

“ _Mmmaah-aahm!_ ” the filly continued as she flapped her mouth and giggled—outright giggled—at her newfound ability.

The god found himself in tears. “Oh, my dearest,” was all he managed to say for some time. He simply enjoyed listening to his child’s sweet voice.

Eventually, the pair set off for destinations unknown. As scenic and peaceful as the meadow was, Loki dared not stay there longer than necessary; he may be adept at avoiding Heimdallr’s gaze, but with the safety of his child in the balance, the god would rather not tempt fate by clinging to their point of entry.

Loki was able to dismiss his travel bag to his pocket dimension, thankfully proving that he and his seiðr were still safely intertwined. Though still disturbed by his own four-legged gait, he found solace in the joy of his daughter as she trotted alongside him. Occasionally she would dash off to chase a fluttering insect, or simply to roll around in the grass she so enjoyed to have below her hooves. As eager as he was to find a location of relative safety, the god realized that this was truly the first time the little foal had been outside and free like this. Her entire life thus far had been spent within the confines of his chambers or, on the rare occasion, Odin’s stables. Loki briefly felt a pit in his stomach at the thought before realizing, as the little filly frolicked and tumbled through the grass in front of him, that she would never find herself confined ever again.

He smiled.

This world was strange, Loki decided as they plodded along through the picturesque scenery. The layout of the nine realms were straightforward, understood and thoroughly explored. Some of the planets within their reach could occasionally be questionable, or sometimes downright bazaar, true. Yet, they followed a predictable set of rules. _Physics_ may be an adept descriptor. This world—realm—reality—whatever it may be considered, acted unexpectedly.

Loki had read theories about worlds such as this. Places with their own sets of laws, ones that could and absolutely would adapt an outsider’s own energy and makeup to match those generated by the world itself. A forced change upon an organism to adapt to his new surroundings. That would explain his current form. It would appear that the equine shape or physiology was somehow integrally tied to this alien world, and Loki found himself relieved to realize such a fact. His investigated pathways through Yggdrasil had born fruit—of all the planets and worlds he had seen in his life, one centered around horses and their ilk would undoubtedly prove to be the ideal hiding place for his beloved Sleipnir.

They walked on.

The sun had sunk low in the sky before the god and his daughter found a source of water. Loki heard the gentle trickle of the stream before seeing the flow itself. Sleipnir raced toward the water with fervor, eager to have a drink after such a long day of play and freedom. Loki charged after her, his protective instincts surging to the surface in an unfamiliar world.

“ _Vaahh,_ ” Sleipnir cheered happily from where she sat in the stream, her now-wet mane plastered to her neck.

Loki couldn’t help but smile down at her. “Yes, little one, _vatn_ ,” he praised. “Be careful, now. We must stay alert.”

The little filly laid down in the shallow water, letting the cool liquid wash over her and carry away the stress and uncertainty that had so tightly clung to them both since that morning. Loki waded into the stream himself, bending down for a drink, only now realizing how parched he had become over the course of their journey. What he saw below made him pause. The reflection of his new form stared up at him with large, surprised eyes. It was some form of equine, yes, but not one that he expected.

“A unicorn, eh?” he mused to himself, turning his head this way and that to gain a better view of his new body. “So, then. At least this world has an ample supply of magic within it. That is…advantageous. Perhaps my seiðr has preserved itself by—”

“ _Mmmaah?_ ”

Loki turned his attention back to his daughter only to find that the little filly was not looking at him, but across the stream at the land beyond. He followed her gaze to find what looked like a bare expanse not very far away. From his vantage point he could see something moving across the landscape. Perhaps the figure was their first sign of civilization.

“Sleipnir, drink your fill now. And stay close. I think it is high time we meet the natives.”

After one final gulp, dunking her entire head below the water to get it, the pink foal jumped back to her hooves and bounded back to her mother. Loki called upon his seiðr to briefly swirl a warm wind about the foal to dry her coat, leaving the little dear in a fit of amused giggles and frizzed hair. Loki simply smiled. His child could genuinely laugh in this world and he was certain that it was the most beautiful sound in all the universe.

They soon began up the hill and toward the figure that had seemed so at home atop its plateau. Though gone from sight now, the being’s appearance was the best lead that Loki had as to locating any sort of civilization, and as much as Sleipnir enjoyed the fields and forests, they could not simply live in the wilds forever. Unfortunately, after nearly a full day of wandering the alien world, it was quickly becoming apparently that the little filly simply didn’t have the energy left to conquer the slope. His seiðr functionally exhausted after so haphazardly traveling Yggdrasil, Loki took advantage of the almost excessive dexterity of his new limbs to scoop up the little creature and continue forward on his remaining three legs. His daughter eventually fell asleep, her short muzzle tucked against his furred chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here's where shit hits the fan XD  
> Not sure how well I'm handling the Equestrian interactions in upcoming chapters, but...I'm tryin'.  
> Next chapter is where I'm not nearly as confident in what's making it onto the page.
> 
> Leave me some feedback on how things come across/how natural and/or in-character they feel. I'd appreciate the help for this and future projects!


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